“Fuckin' kids...” Roland muttered to himself. “They have no idea how this place works.” Roland moved his way through the swirling sea of people at the Free Market, attempting to clear his head. He had left his group behind to their own devices.
He had never liked the Free Market, even when he lived in Milwaukee. He wasn't sure if it was the abundance of people, or just the general atmosphere of a place filled to the brim with such desperate depravity. Or, at least, that was how he saw it. “This is not the world my father knew,” he thought, “Nor the one he wanted for me.”
He watched his feet as they kicked up loose gravel and pieces of crumbled paper. “This place has really gone to shit.” He moved past various stands with swindlers trying to swindle and con men trying to con. He thought long and hard about ditching Marvis, Brad and Bindi. How simple it would be, too. He had a new pistol and some water he could easily sell. What's stopping him? All he would have to do is sneak away and get his boat. Shepherd would be waiting. He could pay off his debts and go deeper on Lake Michigan than the other guys do. He was sure that out there he'd find a shipwreck that was untouched by the others. It was waiting for him if he had the balls to go and take it.
He didn't often think of his family... but he did that day. Ever since he was a child he wanted to escape the country and move to the city. His father forbid it, but he had no idea why. He remembers listening to his father tell horror stories about what the world had become. Shiny leather boots that would kick your face in. Rabid dogs tearing flesh from bone. Religious figures brainwashing the masses to simply create drug induced orgies for their own sick pleasures. Roland grew to fear this world his father depicted. However, curiosity and hatred for his rural surroundings took over at the age of seventeen, and Roland ran away with nothing more than a knapsack and hope. The world he found wasn't the vile pit his father lamented about, but it wasn't far off either.
Roland realized he no longer paid any attention to his destination. He just walked. No longer surrounded by the cover of people, when Roland realized where he was he felt exposed to the world. He could feel a hundred eyes watching each moment. He scanned the area for a camera or two, but none were found. He slowly sunk back into a crowd of people hoping to become a single unit once again. As he suspected two footmen for Sullivan's Fleet pushed through the wall of people. None of them looked too happy. They moved with a purpose. Roland watched from within the crowd.
“We don't even know if he's going to be here!” said the smaller of the two Fleet members. “We were told he ran off!”
“Where else would he be stupid enough to go? If he's sneakin' back into Milwaukee he must want something.” said the the larger of the two.
“Well, why can't we just wait for him back at the dock? Like, if he's here he must be looking for that boat and that kid.”
The leader stopped and rubbed his temples. “If he snuck past the guards at the gate whose to say he won't sneak past us? If we can stop him now it will be easier down the road.” The leader walked away.
“But, it's not easy right now...”
“Jesus Christ...”
They moved again as a unit scanning the crowds. They both had illustrated pictures of Roland in their hands. Every so often they'd stop a person who looked too much like Roland for comfort. “This is suicide” Roland thought. “It was dumb coming back here without that facial surgery.” Roland slowly moved his hand to his side and caressed the handle of his new pistol in case the situation were to escalate at a rate Roland couldn't handle.
Sweat formed on his brow. He knew he couldn't handle this situation on his own. He barely survived last time. He quickly looked around and noticed he had strayed very far from the others. He couldn't afford to let this go bad. Roland hid his gun again, pulled down his hat and tried to be as nonchalant as possibly. He hoped the fact that his beard had grown in would be enough of a disguise to get him away without being noticed. “Just keep calm, look at the ground and walk. Before long you'll find your group and all will be fine.”
Roland had never felt this type of fear before. Dealing with Sullivan's Fleet was never an issue before. Maybe it was his age or the fact that he was still nursing wounds from his last altercation. Regardless, he knew he didn't feel safe at this moment on his own.
He had never liked the Free Market, even when he lived in Milwaukee. He wasn't sure if it was the abundance of people, or just the general atmosphere of a place filled to the brim with such desperate depravity. Or, at least, that was how he saw it. “This is not the world my father knew,” he thought, “Nor the one he wanted for me.”
He watched his feet as they kicked up loose gravel and pieces of crumbled paper. “This place has really gone to shit.” He moved past various stands with swindlers trying to swindle and con men trying to con. He thought long and hard about ditching Marvis, Brad and Bindi. How simple it would be, too. He had a new pistol and some water he could easily sell. What's stopping him? All he would have to do is sneak away and get his boat. Shepherd would be waiting. He could pay off his debts and go deeper on Lake Michigan than the other guys do. He was sure that out there he'd find a shipwreck that was untouched by the others. It was waiting for him if he had the balls to go and take it.
He didn't often think of his family... but he did that day. Ever since he was a child he wanted to escape the country and move to the city. His father forbid it, but he had no idea why. He remembers listening to his father tell horror stories about what the world had become. Shiny leather boots that would kick your face in. Rabid dogs tearing flesh from bone. Religious figures brainwashing the masses to simply create drug induced orgies for their own sick pleasures. Roland grew to fear this world his father depicted. However, curiosity and hatred for his rural surroundings took over at the age of seventeen, and Roland ran away with nothing more than a knapsack and hope. The world he found wasn't the vile pit his father lamented about, but it wasn't far off either.
Roland realized he no longer paid any attention to his destination. He just walked. No longer surrounded by the cover of people, when Roland realized where he was he felt exposed to the world. He could feel a hundred eyes watching each moment. He scanned the area for a camera or two, but none were found. He slowly sunk back into a crowd of people hoping to become a single unit once again. As he suspected two footmen for Sullivan's Fleet pushed through the wall of people. None of them looked too happy. They moved with a purpose. Roland watched from within the crowd.
“We don't even know if he's going to be here!” said the smaller of the two Fleet members. “We were told he ran off!”
“Where else would he be stupid enough to go? If he's sneakin' back into Milwaukee he must want something.” said the the larger of the two.
“Well, why can't we just wait for him back at the dock? Like, if he's here he must be looking for that boat and that kid.”
The leader stopped and rubbed his temples. “If he snuck past the guards at the gate whose to say he won't sneak past us? If we can stop him now it will be easier down the road.” The leader walked away.
“But, it's not easy right now...”
“Jesus Christ...”
They moved again as a unit scanning the crowds. They both had illustrated pictures of Roland in their hands. Every so often they'd stop a person who looked too much like Roland for comfort. “This is suicide” Roland thought. “It was dumb coming back here without that facial surgery.” Roland slowly moved his hand to his side and caressed the handle of his new pistol in case the situation were to escalate at a rate Roland couldn't handle.
Sweat formed on his brow. He knew he couldn't handle this situation on his own. He barely survived last time. He quickly looked around and noticed he had strayed very far from the others. He couldn't afford to let this go bad. Roland hid his gun again, pulled down his hat and tried to be as nonchalant as possibly. He hoped the fact that his beard had grown in would be enough of a disguise to get him away without being noticed. “Just keep calm, look at the ground and walk. Before long you'll find your group and all will be fine.”
Roland had never felt this type of fear before. Dealing with Sullivan's Fleet was never an issue before. Maybe it was his age or the fact that he was still nursing wounds from his last altercation. Regardless, he knew he didn't feel safe at this moment on his own.